


A Confusion of Tongues

by SpaceGoat



Series: Far Cry 5 Week 2019 [3]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bugs & Insects, Comedy, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, Miscommunication, This is me thinking I'm funny, Underage Drinking, Vegetarians & Vegans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 09:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20758148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceGoat/pseuds/SpaceGoat
Summary: Chad Wolanski simply wants to mind his own business, work out what the hell a vegan burger is so that he can woo Adelaide Drubman, and preferably not have to talk to the obnoxious John Seed, who has just shown up at The Grill Streak, with a proposition and a couple of thinly disguised threats.And what is he going to do about it?Let's just say the Tower of Babel has got nothing on Chad.One shot written for FAR CRY 5 WEEK on Tumblr! DAY 3: The Resistance!





	A Confusion of Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to part 3 of my Far Cry 5 Week one-shots! I had an absolute blast writing this one (and I hope you'll see why hahaha)!
> 
> The prompt for the third day was The Resistance, and since my sister had asked me to write a fic about Chad, Wheaty and Cheeseburger, I thought I'd finally oblige. And so, here they are, the fruits of my labour, and there's really not much more to say about it other than, I fully support the vegetarian/vegan lifestyle (I'm a vegetarian myself)... and there's a handy translation guide at the end of the chapter that you will almost certainly need.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Chad Wolanksi had never made a vegan burger in his entire life. As far as he was concerned, plants were plants and the only way they should be anywhere near his grease-slathered grill was having been digested once by the elk or bison sizzling over the heat.

Only… _Adelaide Drubman_ wasn’t of that opinion.

Not since she’d met that spinach worshipping, kale for brains Californian.

God, that woman was a _cougar_, sex on legs with a quick wit, flirty charm and a healthy appetite to boot. Exactly the sort of woman Chad Wolanski went for. He held the long revered stance that the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach… and so here he was, on a blisteringly hot July afternoon, stood on the porch of The Grill Streak, experimenting his way through heaps of unfamiliar produce to whip up the perfect vegan burger.

He’d drop by the marina and give it to her personally.

Maybe he’d invite her out for a steak?

Show her what she was missing out on.

As he mushed and mashed and squashed and pounded his latest attempt into a patty sized lump and tossed it onto the grill, he heard brakes screeching to a halt in the parking lot. One of those horrendous Peggie songs was blasting on full whack through the open window. The smooth humming cut out as the engine was switched off, the door slammed dramatically behind the driver, and footwear obviously inappropriate for the mountainous Whitetail region came striding towards him.

“Mr Wolanski?” Chad could hear the smug grin in the way the approaching voice drew out the syllables of his name, hissing a little on long ‘s’. He knew exactly who it was. Being a business owner of some renown, reputable and profitable in a county famed for its carnivorous population (Chad would rather die than miss the annual Testy Festy), he’d been expecting the manicured bastard for a while.

A fly danced around the misshapen patty of black beans, green beans, corn-beans right off a cob, whatever those goddamn chickpea-beans were, and something which the folks at Sunrise Farm called an ‘eggplant’. Didn’t look much like it came out of a chicken’s ass, but if it did, Chad very much wanted to get his hands on whatever oversized and no doubt juicy hen dropped the purple monstrosity.

Chad squashed the fat little insect straight onto the counter and watched it burst.

That’s _exactly_ what he’d like to do to his latest visitor.

He turned and was faced with the ever irritating John Seed. A rare sight in this area, often far too busy sticking people’s heads into rivers down in the Holland Valley or looking at himself in a mirror, and definitely an unwelcome one.

“You are certainly an industrious man, Mr Wolanski, to be braving the heat of your kitchen in this weather.” John laughed, slick lawyer small talk weakened only by the fact that Chad could see that the man’s brow was glistening. He was probably desperate to be back at his ranch being fanned by swooning women. And why the hell was he insisting on wearing that ugly coat in 100 degree fahrenheit weather?

Chad offered no reply.

He sure as hell wasn’t about to offer a cold beverage either.

_He’ll take my beverage, then he’ll take my restaurant._

All it took was a single step and Chad Wolanski was not going to take it.

John sauntered forward, surveying the Grill Streak in all her shabby, oily walled and grimy bathroom-ed glory, almost rubbing his hands together.

“You’ll be aware, Mr Wolanski, that my brother Jacob has, what one might call, an _insatiable_ appetite for the protein food group. Something on which I’m sure the two of you can relate. And the same goes for rather a lot of his men, the ones who no doubt have paid a visit to your most nourishing and nurturing establishment.”

Chad watched this walking bacterial virus run his tattooed fingers along the surface of one of the outdoor seating tables, and rub the residual coating of meat juice between them.

The wince of disgust didn’t go unnoticed.

“They are the new alpha pack of this county, strong, loyal, a collective, more united than ever. A true militia. They make Eli Palmer’s group look like a _book club_. And you must take some of the glory for that, Mr Wolanski. You have provided a great service to these men and women. Fed and watered them, shared your bounty, relinquished your greed and gluttony and gave it to the community. You should be proud.”

Chad smelt his heap of mangled beans burning, and cursed under his breath. Damn Seed family, never shutting up, a permanent pain in the ass. He’d have to start all over again, and cutting up the eggplant had been hard enough last time. Ignoring John, he turned and grabbed his spatula, scooped up the patty and tossed it into a nearby garbage can.

“I have a proposition for you, Chad-”

“Iaigihtgohnnsyll, Jwn, sogtffmylndbakinyrfcycahrnfukff” Chad growled, hauling himself down the front stairs, spatula raised, wielded like a pitchfork, as if he were defending America from the British.

John’s face became utterly blank, that smirk finally wiped away. Eyes wide, brow furrowed, mouth agape at the string of unintelligible words he’d just had hurled at him. Chad relished in just how nervous even the spatula seemed to be making him. A part of him wished that John would cause trouble, and he could give him a good hiding with his utensils.

Whitehorse wouldn’t have cause to charge him with assault if he was defending his property… and would also probably be glad to hear that John Seed’s backside got what was coming to him at the hands of Hope County’s finest spatula.

“Imntinrstdinyrkultshihsujsfukffnlivmhtmwrk”.

John still didn’t move, just stood and stared.

“Dntmkmywsthz…” Chad raised his makeshift weapon again.

A bird squawked in the trees.

One of Jacob’s chosen sped on by, honking their car horn in victory.

The stifling airless day was suddenly treated to a short lived breeze.

“... I’m sorry… _WHAT_?”

All pretence of polite society and schmoozing was gone.

“Yhyrdm.”

“Uh… I…” John spluttered, completely oblivious to what was going on.

“YcntkyrPrhjctnshviuyrss”

“Are you even speaking _English_ right now?”

“Alystmnhtspkinssholunlysmonuh-”

Chad could have sworn that John nearly reached into his inner coat pocket to retrieve a crucifix, in the hope that he could banish the demon that spoke in tongues.

“Those _aren’t words_\- ”

“Yrthonlfkrnthcwntwhudnunstnm-”

“Do they not teach _diction_ in Montana?”

“DthynhtichyhwtnhdrhssnthdhknGyhgh?”

“Maybe if you spoke a little _slower_, a little _louder_ ?”

“IlspkhwwIwnthnyvrmuh-”

The usually dangerously collected lawyer was seething with visible rage. Chad couldn’t tell if he had a holster on his hip under that coat of his, but suspected that even with his track record of behaviour that went beyond questionable legality, John Seed wouldn’t be stupid enough to draw a pistol on a man armed only with a spatula in broad daylight.

“If this is supposed to be humorous, I warn you now, I am not a man who appreciates or _tolerates_ being _messed around_ and made to look a _fool_\- ”

“Wlyhlkafllrhdyfyhcntuhndstnamnspkyonlngwg.”

“The Father requires your co-operation in these matters, and it would be wise not to play games with his patience, or _mine_\- ”

“Ivlrdygvnmnswrntsno.”

John clamped his lips together, and breathed heavily, trying to regain his composure. There was a vein throbbing in his forehead, sweat now running from his hairline as they faced each other in the almost unbearable sunlight. Chad wondered just how much longer the man was going to endure this undignified performance, but realised he was in for an encore when John pushed his shoulders back, and plastered a smiling grimace on his face.

“Now, Mr Wolanski... we’re going to try again.” His voice was low, ominously quiet and all the wrong kinds of pleasant. “I have a proposition for you, one that would bring you into the Project’s embrace as a brother-”

“ThnkbhnthnkmnonlchdnIlkithawy.”

John threw his hands up in frustration.

“Do you have a _sous-chef_ who I could speak to…” John cut himself off before finishing his point, folding his arms and resting his head in his trembling hand, rubbing at his temples, “No, why am I even _asking_, of _course_ you don’t…”

“OnlnIndsm, ImnbsdmnckswthaBlngs, nIdfyntldntnyh-”

“Will you just silence yourself, for a moment, so I can _think_\- ”

“Mlnmryls-”

“I warned you about the punishment for _disrespect_ , Mr Wolanski, I am _not_ an enemy you want to have. I can make your life _exceptionally difficult_\- ”

“GhydIdlktsyyhtrhy, Jwn, Iljsthrwynmgrlnwhchycklkthundrfdgohtyr-”

“_Pride_ is the most unforgivable of all sins, Chad-”

“FnyIhrdiwsbyna-”

“Utter another string of mumbled incomprehensible _slop_ and I’ll-”

“Ylwh? Wwosaonwthspatulahr?”

John’s eyes darted towards the spatula, having finally picked up on a single, solitary word. Chad bared a knowing smile, unbrushed teeth yellowed with age saying everything else he wanted to say. _I’m not afraid to use this and make it hurt._ Maybe Adelaide will see him as a hero, cast her beetroot smoothie chugging toyboy out into the water for Ragnar to eat, and come running into his bare rugged chest and muscular arms? The scene briefly played out in front of his eyes, like the cover of one of those cheesy romance novels he flicked through in the clinic waiting room when he went to have his cholesterol measured.

More music came from the road, and Chad couldn’t have been happier to see Wheaty rolling up in a deep red 1970 Kimberlite ZZT, with Elton John’s ‘Tower of Babel’ crooning out of the speakers. Upon seeing the situation at hand, the teenager stuck his head out of the window, looking deeply concerned.

“Guess I got here just in time, huh? I’ve seen what he can do with that thing, Mr Seed, believe me, it’s not pretty.”

He hopped out of the car and half-skipped awkwardly over.

“Uh, if it’s not a bad time, Mr Wolanski? Wade asked me to pick up his usual?”

Not relinquishing his grip on the spatula, and not taking his eyes off of John, Chad replied:

“Thgtthbyrwznadyht?”

Wheaty shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand sheepishly.

“Well, Cheeseburger’s been a bit grouchy since he’s been on the diet Doctor Lindsey recommended and uh, well Wade’s feeling a bit sorry for him, y’know?”

“ImnhtsprhzdWytprthgcnlvnfsh, nydsmytngudolAmyrcnchz.”

“Yeah, I know right? Poor thing’s looking miserable as hell right now...”

“Ilmkhizomthndntywrryh.’

“Thanks Mr Wolanski, that’s a big help-”

Wheaty trailed off, double taking at their audience, and Chad saw that John was gawking again, his gaze this time dancing between the young boy, who was so effortlessly communicating with what he had considered to be crude, Neanderthalic grunting, and Chad, who had not let up on said grunting.

“Wha- HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT? _WHAT IS HE SAYING?_ ” John demanded, screeching like a PTA mother offended by store bought cakes at a bake sale.

Wheaty frowned, confused by the question.

“What is it that you don’t get, Mr Seed?”

“I- wha- _he’s not saying any words. There are NO WORDS THERE._” John was losing it, looking like he was on the verge of fainting with utter bewilderment. He wobbled, and gripped the side of the nearest greasy table, eyes scanning the floor, looking at nothing, as he tried to process what the hell was going on. Chad chuckled to himself silently. He couldn’t wait to tell Adelaide how he’d made John Seed squeal like a mid-tantrum toddler.

Maybe he’d get a steak and sex?

“...Are you OK, Mr Seed? Are you having a stroke?” Wheaty made no move to help the man, but pulled out his cell phone. “I could try and get a signal and call an ambulance?”

“Trznzygnlhr-” Chad started.

John’s head snapped up and he threw both of them a filthy glare. Straightening up, he adjusted his vest and jacket, smoothed his hair back, still visibly vibrating with boiling rage, and flounced away towards his sun-warmed Mercedes, calling back as he went.

“Mark my words, Wolanski, I know your game! The _wrath_ of the Father shall _rain_ down upon you for your contempt! You will rue the day you made a mockery of me... and I shall so enjoy watching this shithole _burn_ to the ground! And when you feel the hand of the Project’s justice, there’ll not be a single goddamn person there to listen to your insolent _vociferating_\- ” He spat, before climbing into his car and speeding away towards the Henbane River as fast as the engine could take him.

Chad and Wheaty stood watching the dust rise behind him in a daze.

“And he says he can’t understand _you_ … what the fuck does ‘vociferating’ mean?” Wheaty asked, as they retreated back to the safety of the shady Grill Streak. Both were in need of a Whistling Beaver beer and Chad wasn’t exactly one for being too concerned with age of drinking laws, or even permits to sell alcohol in the first place. No one asked, so he didn’t say.

“Idnszpzwlevrno, hsrahllancminbk” Chad laughed, before suddenly deflating again at the sight of mountains of uncooked beans.

Wheaty leaned over to peer at it, frowning at how unappetizing it all looked.

“Mrs Drubman coming for dinner?”

Chad beamed at his young friend.

Things would soon be as they should again. Seed-less, bean-less and vegan-less.

“Yh. Ihpzo.”

* * *

** WHEATY'S GUIDE TO SPEAKING CHAD **

**Iaigihtgohnnsyll, Jwn, sogtffmylndbakinyrfcycahrnfukff** \- I ain’t gonna sell John, so get off my land, back in your fancy car and fuck off

**Imntinrstdinyrkultshihsujsfukffnlivmhtmwrk** \- I’m not interested in your cult shit so just fuck off and leave me to my work

**Dntmkmywsthz** \- Don’t make me use this

**Yhyrdm** \- You heard me

**YcntkyrPrhjctnshviuyrss** \- You can take your project and shove it up your ass

**Alystmnhtspkinssholunlysmonuh** \- At least I’m not speaking asshole, unlike someone

**Yrthonlfkrnthcwntwhudnunstnm** \- You’re the only fucker in the county who can’t understand me

**DthynhtichyhwtnhdrhssnthdhknGyhgh?** \- Do they not teach you how to not dress in the dark in Georgia?

**IlspkhwwIwnthnyvrmuh** \- I’ll speak how I want, thank you very much

**Wlyhlkafllrhdyfyhcntuhndstnamnspkyonlngwg** \- Well you look a fool already if you can’t understand a man speaking your own language

**Ivlrdygvnmnswrntsno** \- I’ve already given my answer and it’s no

**ThnkbhnthnkmnonlchdnIlkithawy** \- Thanks, but no thanks, I’m an only child and I like it that way

**OnlnIndsm, ImnbsdmnckswthaBlngs, nIdfyntldntnyh** \- Only one I need is me, I’m the best damn cook south of Billings, and I definitely don’t need you

**Mlnmryls** \- My land, my rules

**GhydIdlktsyyhtrhy, Jwn, Iljsthrwynmgrlnwhchycklkthundrfdgohtyr** \- Go ahead, I’d like to see you try John, I’ll just throw you on the grill and watch you cook like the underfed goat you are

**FnyIhrdiwsbyna** \- Funny, I thought it was being a...

**Ylwh? Wwosaonwthspatulahr?** \- You’ll what? Who’s the one with the spatula here?

**Thgtthbyrwznadyht?** \- Thought the bear was on a diet?

**ImnhtsprhzdWytprthgcnlvnfsh, nydsmytngudolAmyrcnchz** \- I’m not surprised, Wheat, the poor thing can’t live on fish, needs meat and good old American cheese

**Ilmkhizomthndntywrryh** \- I’ll make him something, don’t worry

**Trznzygnlhr** \- There’s no signal here

**Idnszpzwlevrno, hsrahllancminbk** \- I don’t suppose we’ll ever know, he sure as shit ain’t coming back

**Yh. Ihpzo.** \- Yeah. I hope so

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for getting through this hahahaha! I always try to write humour into my Far Cry fanfictions to a degree, but this was my first proper all out comedy piece... I can at least hope that I managed to make someone laugh somewhere at some point in this random crap hahahaha
> 
> If you're interested in my much more serious work for Far Cry 5 week, I have two previous entries- one from the POV of an Angel OC featuring the lovely Faith, and the other about John as a teenager running away from home! Please do check the whole series out!
> 
> As usual, you can follow me on Tumblr at unclefungusthegoat!
> 
> Take care,  
Chloe x


End file.
